Trials and Tribbulations
by Deb3
Summary: 11th in the Fearful Symmetry series. The CSIs boldly go where no CSI has gone before. Any further summary would give it away.


Title: Trials and Tribbulations (and that is not misspelled).  
  
Series Recap: This is the 11th (yes 11th!) in the Fearful Symmetry series. Fearful Symmetry, Can't Fight This Feeling, Gold Medals, Surprises, Honeymoon, Blackout, the Hopes and Fears, Anniversary, Framed, and Sight for Sore Eyes precede it. The series is pretty well blocked out through at least 15, and I'm sure more will come. If you get tired of this, start throwing tomatoes or something. All are archived on Lonely Road and also now on fanfiction.net under Deb3.  
  
Rating: G. Really. If anything in here offends you, you're trying too hard to be offended.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters herein, and I am making no money from this. Unfortunately. If CSIM is ever looking for another writer, though, I'd like to apply.  
  
A/N: Way back about late May of 2003, I wrote and posted a story called the Good Old Days, which was an insane CSIM meets the Old West frolic. In fact, it was practically my first CSIM list post after joining. I had just finished Fearful Symmetry but wanted to test the waters first with something else that didn't matter to me as much in case you all hated my stuff. The Good Old Days was never intended as part of the FS series. Actually, FS wasn't even a series then, just the one story. However, two other stories (this one and the one three stories hence) of a similar ilk have decided to be born recently. Therefore, with this one, I am announcing the Fearful Symmetry subseries, which will be goofy one-part crossover dream stories. You don't have to read the Good Old Days first, but you'd probably enjoy it. These will be used as angst-breaks and fluff between the serious stories and will pop up occasionally when my silly side emerges. There will always be more serious stories than these, though. This is just playing. These subseries stories will be limited to my experience, obviously, and my TV/movie experience is a lot narrower and more strangely lopsided than many of yours. For instance, I have never seen any of the CSIM cast in any other role besides this show. I am woefully ignorant of a lot of the other shows/movies you all discuss, especially the ones in the last decade. I do have a hectic real life, and I don't have much time for watching TV/movies these days, so I've seen a lot more from the 80s or so. (If you're wondering how I have time to write so much, then, I do almost all writing mentally while driving, and I spend an hour and a half every day round trip driving to and from my real job. Can't watch TV/movies while driving. It doesn't work.) So if you don't get your favorite TV show or movie incorporated into this, don't take it as a comment on that show/movie. I probably just don't know how awesome the combination would be. However, I freely donate this dream-crossover idea to the public domain. Write your own with your favorite other show. I'd love to read them. I reserve all rights to the main Fearful Symmetry series myself, but anyone who wants to is welcome to write stories like this one or the Good Old Days. And now, since this A/N is getting hideously long, OUR FEATURE PRESENTATION (insert the 20th Century Fox or movie company of your choice theme here. No bias in movie companies intended, but 20th Century Fox had an awesome fanfare).  
  
***  
  
"Infinite diversity in infinite combinations."  
  
Vulcan saying which will become the slogan for this subseries.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh was half-asleep on the couch, idly watching old reruns on TV, when she finally heard the door. "Hey, Handsome," she said lazily, not getting up.  
  
"Hey, Beautiful." He came across to the couch and kissed her. "Missed you."  
  
"I missed you, too," she agreed. "Even if it was only three hours."  
  
"Time is relative." He sat down beside her, and she reversed her curl while stretching, like a cat, to lean against him. He put his arm around her shoulders.  
  
"Mmm," she sighed contentedly. "So, did you get it solved?"  
  
"Did you doubt me?"  
  
"Not for a minute. You've never had a case like this before, though. I thought it might take you longer than 3 hours."  
  
"I try to be efficient," he mumbled into her hair.  
  
"You do a great job of it. You are the most efficient person I've ever met, Horatio."  
  
"Thank you." He reached for the remote and hit the mute button, leaving the television characters gesticulating in offended silence. "All is well, everyone is home again, including Midnight, and everyone is free to live happily ever after. For once. Nice to have a case that turned out not to be serious."  
  
"For once," she agreed. She kissed him. "So tell me about it. I want the full investigation details. This case was historic, you know."  
  
Their work day had not started as lightheartedly. A family had awakened that morning to find that their house had been broken into and that their 6- year-old daughter was missing. Horatio, who considered it his personal duty to avenge all children who were victims, had dropped the case he had been working with Eric and Speed and bolted over to the house with Calleigh. The more time they spent processing the scene, however, the more they became convinced that the robbery and the girl's disappearance were unconnected. There were no signs of force anywhere, and the load the burglar left with did not allow much room for additional burden. Horatio concluded that the timing was coincidence and that the girl had simply left on her own for some reason and was lost. The rest of the afternoon had been spent tracking her down, finally discovering her in a park, hopelessly lost, but still more concerned about Midnight than herself. Midnight was her black kitten who had been missing that morning when she woke up early, and she was determined to find him. Horatio had convinced her to go home only on his absolute assurance that he would investigate her kitten's disappearance himself. He had sent Calleigh home, not letting her work late (he was absurdly protective of her these days), but he had stayed himself to turn all of his CSI skills to finding a missing kitten.  
  
"He was shut in the neighbor's garden shed," Horatio explained.  
  
"How did you find him?"  
  
"A paw print here and there, some tufts of fresh fur in the hedge in between the yards. He had a sort of tunnel there he'd used regularly. I also was armed with a can of Friskies to attract his attention when I got close. It wouldn't have taken this long except that it was dark."  
  
"My hero," she said admiringly. "Defender of children and finder of kittens. I think you can do anything, Horatio. All you need now is a set of shining armor."  
  
He ducked away from the praise. "It would have taken me five hours with a set of shining armor. And it wouldn't have been shining at the end of it. I was just glad Speed wasn't there to see it. On my hands and knees, climbing around under the hedge, looking for a kitten. He'd be calling, 'Kitty, kitty,' behind my back for a year."  
  
"It was a big case to her."  
  
"Yes. At least she was there to thank me, and the parents have their daughter back safe and sound. I was afraid it would end differently this morning." He reached over, putting a hand protectively on her abdomen. She folded her hands across his. She was three months pregnant now, and she wasn't really showing yet, but they both knew that Rosalind was there. Horatio had convinced her, based on no evidence really, that it was definitely a girl, and they both called her Rosalind now. He always kissed her goodnight (with Calleigh acting as transmitter) and greeted her every morning. "I can't wait until the end of February," he said.  
  
"Don't have much choice, I'm afraid. I'd hurry it up if I could." She smiled at him. "Maybe she'll have hair like that girl today." The missing girl had had beautiful strawberry blonde hair.  
  
"Maybe. Half and half. If she takes the best from each of us, though, she'll have your hair."  
  
"You're only saying that because you haven't spent your life fighting to tame it."  
  
"Allow me to volunteer my services, any time." He kissed her. "We'd better get to bed. Don't want you staying up late."  
  
"Horatio, I'm not even showing yet. You treat me like a china doll. I won't break."  
  
He gave her the quirky smile that always disarmed her. "I know, but humor me, would you? You don't want to cause me undue stress. It might not be good for me." He reached out to pick up the remote. "Were you actually watching that while you were waiting for me?"  
  
"Poor substitute, but if you won't let me watch you." She kissed him thoroughly.  
  
"You didn't need to be climbing under hedges looking for kittens," he said when they parted.  
  
"Amazing the places this job can take you."  
  
"It's never boring. We get to go places you can't even see with the Hubble Space Telescope." He snapped the TV off as he spoke.  
  
She laughed. "Come on, Horatio, only sci fi writers get to do that. The telescope isn't even pointed at earth. It would be a waste of its power. It could see anything here."  
  
"Nope," he insisted. "We get to explore places it can't see. It will never see into the human mind. We can analyze the evidence we see to reconstruct behavior, and the telescope won't ever be able to do that. Those scientists just have it pointed out to space because they don't want to admit that they still don't fully see people. Easier to look at what you've never seen than at what you've never quite figured out."  
  
She stood up, pulling him up and hugging him. "All right, I give up. The Hubble telescope couldn't do what we do. At least, we'll never be obsolete."  
  
"Right. There will always be room for the human mind in investigation. No computer or telescope will ever replace human analysis." He hugged her back. "And now, having settled the question of human obsolescence, let's get to bed. I think traveling from kittens to space is enough ground covered in one day."  
  
"I'm not that sleepy yet, Horatio," she protested.  
  
"Now, Calleigh, did I say you had to go to sleep?" His dazzling eyes twinkled playfully, knowing he was throwing her own words from months ago back at her.  
  
"No, you didn't. You win. Let's go." They turned out the living room lights and went into the bedroom together.  
  
***  
  
"Captain's log, stardate 6123.4. The Enterprise has arrived at Starbase 11 for scheduled shore leave, but one hour prior to our arrival, a tribble was found on board. We were transporting various personnel and their families from the Research Station on Miamius 1 to the starbase, and apparently, one of them smuggled a tribble onto the ship. None of the passengers, however, are admitting guilt. Importing tribbles into Federation territory is a class 10 felony. I have notified Starfleet Command, and all shore leave has been cancelled. All passengers are to be held while this crime is investigated. The SCSI team is to have our full cooperation."  
  
***  
  
Captain James T. Kirk stood in the transporter room, waiting for the SCSI team to materialize on the platform. The shapes slowly shimmered and formed, and Kirk instantly switched from an air of respectful diplomacy to one of polished, respectful, diplomatic charm in acknowledgement of the dazzling blonde on one of the front circles. One of the primary advantages of his job, he'd discovered, was being able to appreciate so much feminine beauty in the galaxy. He considered himself a connoisseur, and this one ranked near the top of his list.  
  
Spock took one step out from behind the transporter controls, not taking the lead but moving just enough to jolt his captain back to his duties. Kirk gave himself a polished mental shake and stepped forward. "Admiral Caine," he said. "Welcome aboard the Enterprise. It's fortunate for us that you happened to be at the starbase for that conference. Normally, the head of SCSI would not be available personally on such short notice. I'm honored to meet you."  
  
The tall redhead matched the firmness of Kirk's handshake. No aggression was in his clasp, but there was absolute assurance and strength. "Thank you," he replied courteously. "I have also heard quite a bit about you. Allow me to introduce my coworkers. This is my wife and working partner, Calleigh Caine." Here he paused for the briefest flicker of a second, and his eyes met Kirk's. Again, no aggression at the moment, but absolute assurance and strength. Kirk nodded with his eyes, resigned but undaunted. Plenty of other women in the galaxy, after all. A woman wasn't worth going against this man for. Admiral Horatio Caine went on so smoothly that the pause was unnoticed by anyone else except the two women on his team and Spock, all of whom were quietly amused and didn't show even a flicker of it. "Also, Lieutenants Delko and Speedle and Dr. Alexx Woods." Kirk sized them up. Delko was obviously interested in the ship, looking around him with an analytical eye. He lacked Caine's elegant assurance, but he had a sort of relaxed polish. Kirk recognized potential and thought he might pass along a few pointers on women if the occasion arose. Speedle looked no less interested than his coworkers but definitely less polished. His uniform was on, and that was about all that could be said for it. Any appearance of discipline or neatness was absent. Kirk wondered how he had survived Starfleet Academy without earning too many demerits to graduate. Alexx Woods, with beautiful dark skin and a dazzling smile, was obviously interested in Kirk, not in a masculine way but psychologically. She was squaring the exploits with the person, and she didn't mind at all if he knew it.  
  
Kirk performed his introduction in turn. "My first officer, Mr. Spock."  
  
"I have read of some of your work, Admiral Caine," Spock said with quiet respect. "I also am honored to meet you." Horatio nodded at him courteously but did not attempt to shake hands, for which Spock gave him credit. Most visitors did not realize how much Vulcans, touch telepaths, hated that indiscriminate contact.  
  
Horatio switched into investigation mode. "Where was the tribble found?"  
  
"On the observation deck," Kirk supplied. "Many of the passengers were gathered to watch the approach to starbase, and the tribble was suddenly noticed underfoot."  
  
"Only one tribble?" Horatio asked.  
  
"Only one tribble," Kirk confirmed. "We do have it caged for your inspection in sick bay, but it has not reproduced yet."  
  
"Why cage it?" Alexx Woods put in suddenly. "They aren't vicious."  
  
"Just trying to contain the evidence as much as possible," said Kirk. "We realize how important that is for an investigation." Actually, he had had tribblephobia since that first encounter with them. He would never forget being assaulted by an avalanche of tribbles, burying him in cooing, squirming fur. He still dreamed about it at times. He felt a lot better himself with the offending tribble locked up. Not, of course, that he was ever going to admit that to anyone. It ruined the image.  
  
"What about the passengers?" asked Calleigh, meeting his eyes with deliberately cool professionalism. Kirk decided that she didn't lack much in strength or assurance herself, in spite of the petite build.  
  
"They are being held in the observation lounge. No one admits knowledge."  
  
Horatio flowed into action, heading for the door. "Okay, I need a list of passengers and their quarters. We'll let the passengers cool off a bit more while we start processing their rooms. Speed, Calleigh, we'll be working on the quarters. Look for any trace evidence of a tribble. Eric, access the food processor records. See who has ordered what. They eat voraciously, and they prefer grain. Alexx, you examine the tribble. It might have collected evidence as well as left it. Maybe it will lead us back to where it's been held."  
  
"No problem, Horatio," the ME said smoothly. "I'm not afraid of them." Speed and Delko looked confused, Horatio and Calleigh looked enlightened, and Kirk quickly turned to Spock, who, as so often, was looking privately amused behind the stoic exterior.  
  
"Mr. Spock, give them access to the computer to list passenger cabin assignments and check the food processor records. Let me know if you need anything at all, Admiral. I'll be on the bridge."  
  
"Certainly, Captain," Spock replied smoothly. "This way." The doors swished politely open, and they all left the transporter room.  
  
***  
  
Alexx opened the cage and removed the soft ball of fur. It stretched itself and cooed at the contact, and she stroked what she thought was its back. It arched up in appreciation. "I've never actually had the chance to examine one," she explained. "The Federation was quick to ban them."  
  
"With good reason," Dr. Leonard McCoy retorted. "I have had the chance to examine one. As much as you can examine just one. The blasted things are born pregnant."  
  
"This one hasn't reproduced, though."  
  
McCoy gave a shrug. "It will, soon as we turn our backs on it." Alexx smiled to herself. Something about his attitude reminded her of Speed.  
  
"Have you examined it at all to find out why it hasn't reproduced?"  
  
"Haven't looked at the thing. I run into enough animals I'm ordered to look at. Those first tribbles, hortas, God only knows what else is out there waiting for me. This isn't what I went to medical school for. I'm a doctor, not a veterinarian."  
  
"Well, could you give me a hand anyway, please?" Alexx was trying to examine the tribble and running into difficulty. It interpreted any touch as a caress and kept reversing itself and arching against her hand before she could part the fur.  
  
McCoy gave a sigh of martyrdom and stuck his hands in the Glovulator that Alexx had already taken out of her kit. This instrument put a strong but flexible DNA barrier on a person's skin, preventing any transfer of contaminates, while evidence from whatever was being examined would adhere to the outer surface. Upon running the cycle in reverse, the instrument would analyze any trace collected. "Nice gadget," he said of the ultra- expensive machine. "Wonder if it could analyze Spock for me." He grabbed the tribble at each end and held it relatively still as Alexx probed, rotating it as she finished examining each section of fur.  
  
"Look at that," Alexx said softly, nearing the end of her search. "There's some kind of scar here." She changed instruments, picking up the internal organ scanner. "It's missing its uterus. It's been spayed."  
  
"I tried that," McCoy protested. "Pesky little things grew new ones. They're nothing if not persistent." The tribble purred throatily at the compliment.  
  
"This is an old scar, though. There should already be regeneration if it was going to happen. Let's get a blood sample for analysis." She obtained the blood sample and ran a chemical analysis on it. While the computer was completing that, she put her hands back into the Glovulator and reversed it, then took the tribble as McCoy did the same. The computer spit out a chemistry report. Alexx called up the records on the information from the original tribble analysis years ago. "The calcium level in the blood is quite a bit higher. That's the only difference." The Glovulator spit out its analysis in turn. "The fur contained traces of a perfume called Stardust, widely sold commercially, and traces of crayon."  
  
McCoy shook his head. "For centuries and centuries, children of the galaxy have played with crayons. When people started space exploration back in the 20th century, I bet they never guessed what some of the common denominators in the galaxy would be."  
  
Alexx was thinking along practical, not philosophical lines. "How many children among the passengers?"  
  
McCoy straightened to alert attention. "Only three. You think a child did this?"  
  
"Not wearing Stardust perfume, but a child is involved. I'd better go see Horatio." She took the tribble with her. Nothing like first-hand evidence. Besides, it did have a soothing purr.  
  
***  
  
The Glovulator spit out the analysis from the fifth cabin they had processed. "Got it," said Speed. "Traces of tribble fur. Four blank cabins first. Why don't we ever find anything in the first place we look?"  
  
"We wouldn't want it to be too easy, now, would we?" Horatio mused, his voice sounding distant. He was looking at the clothes in the cabin.  
  
"I wouldn't mind," Speed declared.  
  
"What have you got?" Calleigh knew Horatio had something. His eyes had retreated a bit, studying the puzzle he was assembling, analyzing the scene being created piece by piece. He was starting to realize what the completed picture would reveal.  
  
"This scientist has a child with him. This is the first cabin where there have been children's clothes."  
  
"So what?" Speed didn't get it.  
  
"Kirk and Spock asked all the passengers, and they all denied knowledge. I wonder if they talked to the adults only or to any children. It could be that the adults didn't realize their child had their tribble on the trip."  
  
"You think a kid smuggled in the tribble?" Speed wondered how a child on an remote research station would have the resources to commit a class 10 felony.  
  
"You know how quickly children become attached to pets. Maybe the girl had a pet tribble and didn't want to leave it behind."  
  
The door swished open, and Alexx entered. "Horatio, I've found evidence that a child is involved."  
  
"Too late," Speed informed her. "H got there already."  
  
Alexx shook her head in mock frustration. "Can't beat you to anything, can we?"  
  
"What's your evidence?" He was honestly interested, even if he already had the conclusion.  
  
"Crayon traces on the tribble's fur. Also a perfume called Stardust, by the way."  
  
"Right here," said Calleigh from the dresser. "And none of the other cabins we've searched had Stardust. Several other brands, but not that one."  
  
"You remember all the brands of perfume in each cabin?" Speed asked.  
  
"Of course," Calleigh replied, like it was obvious. "And the shoes, too." Speed rolled his eyes. Horatio, like a good husband, kept quiet.  
  
"One other thing that was interesting. The tribble had been spayed. That's why it hadn't reproduced. But when spaying tribbles was tried earlier, they ran into uterine regeneration. This tribble hasn't regrown one."  
  
"Any other differences?" asked Horatio.  
  
"Only a raised calcium content in the blood," Alexx replied.  
  
"Calcium," Calleigh repeated thoughtfully. The door swished open again, and Eric entered. "How would a tribble get a high calcium level?"  
  
"Drinking milk," said Eric. "This cabin has ordered more grain-based foods than any other, but they've also ordered a lot more milk."  
  
"They do have a child," Calleigh suggested.  
  
"So do two other families," said Alexx. "Should be three that high, if it was just a child."  
  
"Has anyone ever tried feeding a tribble milk?" asked Horatio.  
  
"Not that I know of," said Alexx. "The former experience with them was pretty brief, though. All the notes only mention the grain."  
  
Horatio headed for the food dispenser slot, absolutely intent. "Milk in a saucer," he ordered. A saucer of milk materialized, and he offered it to the tribble Alexx was still stroking. The tribble had apparently gone to sleep, but it woke up instantly, the entire body twitching, as the saucer approached. It drained the saucer in one continuous gulp, then stretched itself luxuriously and curled back up in Alexx's arms. Horatio smiled slightly. "I think we have sufficiently established that tribbles like milk."  
  
"And I thought you could go through a drink fast, man," Speed commented to Eric.  
  
"So," Horatio said slowly, thinking it out, "a scientist on the research station was doing tribble research. He discovered that giving them milk regularly would prevent uterine regeneration, thereby making a perfect pet, once it is spayed."  
  
"Imagine the potential when they aren't spayed, though." Eric shuddered.  
  
"We don't have to imagine it. It's recorded. That's why they're illegal. So the scientist and his family were going to Starbase 11 for the upcoming science conferences, and unknown to him or his wife, the girl smuggled along her pet tribble."  
  
"How would you keep one quiet enough to smuggle?" Calleigh wondered.  
  
"Keep it fed," said Alexx. The tribble was sound asleep in her arms again, vibrating softly, but the sound was negligible.  
  
"It's time we had a talk with the scientist from this cabin," Horatio said. "Let's go. Bring the tribble, Alexx. Let's see if it will identify its owner."  
  
***  
  
The scientist sat in the conference room with slumped shoulders. "Yes, it's exactly like you said. I was conducting tribble research. I swear, I didn't know that Alice had brought her tribble along, though. Then, I just got scared when it fell out of her pocket. I thought there was no way to tie it back to us. My research was confidential on the base. Only one person there outside my family knew."  
  
"You do realize that this is a class 10 felony? And don't try to claim that it was Alice who imported a tribble in the first place. Where did you get it?" Horatio demanded quietly but forcefully.  
  
"From the Klingons, of course. Tribble extermination and population control has become a very high priority for the Klingon Empire."  
  
"I'll bet," said Kirk, remembered being buried in that tribble pile. He'd never thought he would have sympathy for a Klingon, but he pitied them now.  
  
"They've tried several methods, mostly quite inhumane. But one scientist had a different theory. I was reading a presentation from a Klingon science conference, and. . . "  
  
"Klingons have science conferences?" Kirk was skeptical.  
  
Spock stepped in smoothly. "Not all Klingons are warriors, Captain. Practically every civilization has had scientists. I read papers from the Klingon science conferences myself when time permits. I do not recall any paper on tribbles, though."  
  
"About 4 months ago," the scientist filled in.  
  
"Ah, yes." Spock understood it now. "I missed reading the conference four months ago. We were occupied with the Romulans at that time."  
  
"Where do you access this stuff?" Kirk demanded.  
  
"On the Spacenet," the scientist replied. "You'd be amazed what's out there. We just look it up on the computer. I read the Romulan science conferences, too."  
  
"What was your opinion on the feature presentation at last month's Romulan conference?" Spock inquired. "Fascinating premise, but I questioned his proof."  
  
The scientist sat up eagerly. "Exactly what I was saying to my colleagues."  
  
Horatio cleared his throat quietly, and the room instantly fell silent. "Gentleman, as fascinating as you both find this, we are investigating a serious crime here. That is the purpose of this particular conference." Spock nodded once in silent apology, and the scientist studied his hands. "So you read about a proposed plan for tribble population control involving spaying all tribbles and feeding them milk. What happened then? How did you get one?"  
  
"I wrote to the scientist praising him for looking for a humane solution. Most of the Klingon plans are rougher. He sent back a note that his funding was being cut. The government thought his plan was too much bother. His primary specimen tribble was scheduled to be exterminated, and he had 6 months worth of research tied up in her. He had accepted as his base theory that if he could get a tribble to one year post surgery without uterine regeneration, he would call it a success." Spock nodded in scientific approval. "But of course, it took a while to discover the significance of milk. He thought it was some nutrient in the blood that might make a difference, but the research took months, and his government only saw the multiple failures. He was losing the whole project. So I proposed that he send the tribble to me, and I would complete his year of research. If the experiment failed, I would put it to sleep humanely. I promised him regular updates, and he agreed and sent me the tribble."  
  
"Just how did you ship a tribble from the Klingons to the Federation?" Kirk wondered. "How did you communicate so well, for that matter? I thought communications were monitored."  
  
"Starfleet communications are monitored," Spock supplied. "S-mail is not."  
  
His commander eyed him. "Mr. Spock, how many scientists from other empires are you in regular communication with?"  
  
"Eleven," Spock replied promptly. "But I assure you, Captain, the communications are purely scientific. I have revealed nothing that Starfleet would consider relevant."  
  
Kirk eyed his friend. "I'll take your word for that, but be careful, would you?"  
  
"Always, Captain."  
  
"About the transportation?" Horatio asked.  
  
"SPS," the scientist replied. "Space Parcel Services. Galaxy-wide delivery. The tribble was sent along with ample food and milk for the trip. Of course, they're not always on time, but the rates are pretty good."  
  
Horatio smiled thinly. "So I've heard. What did you expect to do when the year was over?"  
  
"Present my findings at a conference, of course. I wanted to propose reinstitution of tribbles as pets but with the requirement that they all be spayed and fed milk daily. They do make wonderful pets. Children love them."  
  
"Captain Kirk," came Uhura's voice over the intercom.  
  
"Yes, Uhura."  
  
"Reply from Starfleet Command to the previous message we sent."  
  
"Thank you, Uhura. Pipe it through to this room."  
  
The monitor sprang to life, revealing a disapproving Federation President. "Return message to Admiral Horatio Caine. Regarding the scientist, he is to be transferred back to earth under arrest to stand trial on one count (at least) of tribble importing. If the tribble remains unfertile through his trial date, he may, however, present his research during the course of his defense. The court will consider it, but at this point, the Federation is not sympathetic to his position. Research is not above the law. Good work, Horatio, as always. Give my regards to Calleigh." The screen went blank.  
  
The scientist relaxed slightly. "It's a chance, anyway. At least they will listen. And the tribble is up to 10 months post surgery, now. It will be a year by the time of the trial. The best defense, after all, is good, solid, scientific evidence."  
  
Horatio linked his arm with Calleigh's as they prepared to leave. "The best defense," he corrected, "is an honest life."  
  
***  
  
Calleigh's laughter woke both of them up. Which, as Horatio pointed out later, had its advantages.  
  
*** ***  
  
On the next episode of CSI:Miami (Fearful Symmetry): Hopefully, the title alone is enough to whet your appetite. Premonition. 


End file.
